May 27, 2009
Most people sneak nervously into the restroom to puke. Not Ma. She sneaks nervously into the restroom to practice. Why the bathroom? Must be an urgent need to rehearse... or it's the only room available... or the acoustics are better (with all that reverberation from the porcelain).
Ma has Violinist Nervosa.
Sounds serious, doesn't it? It's not. High blood pressure, on the other hand, is. Which Ma has inherited, thanks to obligatory genetics. She has also inherited that condition where bunches of gunky blood gets shoved into a brain vessel and causes grief. She exercises regularly, salts nothing and watches sodium like it's plutonium. With all that exercise and food watching, you'd think she'd be in the clear. Sadly, no.
Ma is currently undergoing a stroke-prevention conference at the hospital.
A few posts ago, I included a photo of my dear Ma. Somehow she received news of her new-found fame and gave me a call. She left me a warning on the answering machine. “Rabid. You're in trouble,” then giggled and hung up.
Next thing I know, she's calling me from the ER - with a 214 (systolic) over one hundred something (diastolic). “I'm also having Symptoms” she says. Symptoms with a capital S – as in Stroke Symptoms.
My first thought? I sent her over the hypertension edge by posting her photo without proper acquiescence! It's all my fault. Again!
Yes, you read correctly. Again. Six years ago, I called Ma while she was having Symptoms. The right (or was it left?) side of her body was numb-ish. Her vision was kaleidescope-ish. I said, “Call Moe and I'll be right over.”
In my signature fanatic frenzy, I drove to get her. Moe had arrived when I did and we agreed that I'd follow them to the hospital. Long-story-short, Moe was turning right and stopped suddenly - so as not to hit the punk-on-a-board in the middle of the road. Moi, following too close, didn't stop in time and crashed into the back of them.
Yes. You read correctly. I rear-ended my Ma while she was having a stroke.
After several days in the hospital, she came out of the whole ordeal relatively unscathed. The car, however? Not so much. Needed a new bumper, trunk lid, tail lights, lots of stuff.
Moral of the story, call 911. ALWAYS. Time lost is brain lost. Then you don't have to worry about crashing into the stroke victim on the way.
As of right now, Ma has escaped this particular episode stroke-free. They're running tests and whatnot to find tactics for preventing a stroke in the future. She's going to be just fine.
We, on the other hand will continue to practice nervously in the bathroom. And pray.